en we get back again," said he, "we will go and dine
sometimes at Chatou."

She murmured: "We shall have so many things to do," in a tone of voice
that seemed to imply, "The agreeable must be sacrificed to the useful."

He still held her hand, asking himself with some uneasiness by what
transition he should reach the caressing stage. He would not have felt
uneasy in the same way in presence of the ignorance of a young girl, but
the lively and artful intelligence he felt existed in Madeleine,
rendered his attitude an embarrassed one. He was afraid of appearing
stupid to her, too timid or too brutal, too slow or too prompt. He kept
pressing her hand gently, without her making any response to this
appeal. At length he said: "It seems to me very funny for you to be my
wife."

She seemed surprised as she said: "Why so?"

"I do not know. It seems strange to me. I want to kiss you, and I feel
astonished at having the right to do so."

She calmly held out her cheek to him, which he kissed as he would have
kissed that of a sister.

He continued: "The first time I saw you--you remember the dinner
Forestier invited me to--I thought, 'Hang it all, if I could only find a
wife like that.' Well, it's done. I have one."

She said, in a low tone: "That is very nice," and looked him straight in
the face, shrewdly, and with smiling eyes.

He reflected, "I am too cold. I am stupid. I ought to get along quicker
than this," and asked: "How did you make Forestier's acquaintance?"

She replied, with provoking archness: "Are we going to Rouen to talk
about him?"

He reddened, saying: "I am a fool. But you frighten me a great deal."

She was delighted, saying: "I--impossible! How is it?"

He had seated himself close beside her. She suddenly exclaimed: "Oh! a
stag."

The train was passing through the forest of Saint Germaine, and she had
seen a frightened deer clear one of the paths at a bound. Duroy, leaning
forward as she looked out of the open window, printed a long kiss, a
lover's kiss, among the hair on her neck. She remained still for a few
seconds, and then, raising her head, said: "You are tickling me. Leave
off."

But he would not go away, but kept on pressing his curly moustache
against her white skin in a long and thrilling caress.

She shook herself, saying: "Do leave off."

He had taken her head in his right hand, passed around her, and turned
it towards him. Then he darted on her mouth like a hawk on its prey. Sh